Empty

Chapter 14

Jessica was gripping Adam's arm so tightly that it was turning white. He realised that his heart was racing, and struggled to prise her fingers off him, wincing. "Okay... Sorry, you're... You're cutting off the circulation..."

Her face suddenly seemed to be wiped clean and she dropped his arm, looking vaguely surprised. "Hi, have we met? My name's Jess-"

"I know who you are, Jess." He said quietly, rubbing his wrist. "Are you..."

"Sorry." She awkwardly cleared her throat. "I am fine. I am fine. I am completely, completely fine." She sounded less like she was reading a script now, more like she was reciting a mantra. "I should go."

She made to leave, but he stopped her.

"Wait." He grabbed her arm this time. "What was that?"

"They don't like me to think."

"What?"

"I left once. They didn't like it. Now I'm not allowed to think anything. So they made sure I couldn't. They made sure I couldn't think anything. Anything except my name. I still have my name. But I used to have lots of things that I knew, but not anymore. I was just like you, until they made me like them." She said all of this in one breath, as if she was afraid breathing would cause her to be unable to complete her thought. Her voice became strained. "He has to hear me, you have to... Please... Just let me..."

He watched her warily, feeling panic settling in his stomach again. His arm was burning, and he could feel the blood more clearly than ever. "What does that mean?"

Her eyes were starting to glaze over. "Hi, my name's Jessica. Jessica O'Neil. You must be new..."

"No, wait, stay with me." He put a hand on her shoulder. "I don't understand..."

"You shouldn't leave. It's better here. Perfect in every way. And... And that's a good thing." She swallowed before continuing shakily. "Makes us good too."

He ran his hand through his hair, suddenly aware that it was much shorter and much neater. He looked down at his clothes and saw that the tears in his jeans had repaired themselves and his clothes looked new.

A mirror appeared on the wall opposite him and for once, he didn't question it. He noticed that the shadows under his eyes had vanished too, and that his face was less pale. His features seemed to be moving, barely noticeable, but constantly perfecting in vain.

He hadn't realised at the time, but his stutter had vanished.

"Are you nervous? You appear nervous. Don't you feel safe?" Jess recited, every inflection identical. Any trace of her attempting to speak had vanished again.

A horrible sort of comprehension washed over him, and he looked at the scar on his hand, imagining the gaping wound. Then back at Jess, her silky blonde hair falling down her back gracefully. Finally, he remembered the page in one of his survival textbooks about how empties were known to keep fighting even after having lost an arm or broken a leg, and suddenly felt his heart return to his chest.

He grabbed her shoulders and she yelped. "Please, Jessica. I'm begging you. How did you get out?" She didn't reply, so he hastily added, "I promise, if you help me leave this place, I'll get you out of here too. For good. Just... Try to tell me." He paused. "I want you to tell me."

This seemed to bring her to her senses. "This place is alive, and it wants to make us happy. But if you will only be happy outside it will just let you leave."

"But I've been trying to leave all day. How am I still here?"

"You want to not be here. But unfortunately, here can be anything. It will only keep changing itself slightly to suit you. You can only leave if you want to be in the real world, but that means you'd want to feel every injury, see every imperfection. And nobody... Nobody wants to... To see.... And... It's... And... Hi, you must..." She trailed off, her voice strained as she struggled to articulate.

"Thank you, Jessica," he said quietly as she recited her words again.

He began to think for the first time about what it would actually be like to leave. He knew it wouldn't exactly be fun. He could be getting a wanted poster and a body count at that moment. Maybe he was losing limbs. Maybe he was already dead.

His head started to ache, but he ignored it.

He tried to imagine it like a martyr, dying to prove that anything would be better than living as he was, but all he could believe with absolute clarity was that that was for war heroes and he didn't want to die.

Instead, he tried to think about the situation he was in already. Somewhere he was laughing while he tortured people. Or being shot at. Or maybe just building something.

He'd focus on the building something thing.

He stepped outside and examined it critically. Objectively, it was all beautiful, which made it one of the ugliest places he'd ever seen.

On reflection, he realised how much he hated when things looked perfect.

He didn't like warm weather and clear skies. In fact, he detested it. He liked rain that soaked you to the skin, that you could only enjoy from behind a window. He didn't like the vacant space that constituted his new house, he liked the spiders that crawled into the dark corners of his old place, keeping him company. Most of all, he hated the plastic smiles, all teeth, no soul. He could remember someone making him laugh a few times, and he remembered tears being in his eyes. Her face had creased up in a very unattractive way, and it had been entirely genuine. He realised with a start that he couldn't remember her name, but it didn't matter. He had the memory, that was enough. Nothing could ever convince him to trade it all in for a trimmed lawn and new clothes.

Realising he was somehow back inside, he smiled and nodded at the air. The place was getting desperate now. Maybe it would finally listen.

"Okay listen, whatever the... Hell you are." He closed his eyes, trying to ignore how stupid he felt. His stomach was churning and he was suddenly afraid he was going to be sick, but he fought through it and perservered. "I don't want to be here and I never will. You can't make me forget, because I know the things you wanted to keep secret. I have no reason to be here and every reason to leave. You don't control me. I control you." He paused, but nothing had happened. Still, he continued. "I want to go back. I want to make amends. I want to know what happened, and I want -"

His concentration was then immediately broken by a loud scream of pain from outside.